


Baby Steps

by RAW_SYNTH3TICA



Category: The Lone Ranger (2013)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Biracial, M/M, Male Slash, Slash if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 07:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RAW_SYNTH3TICA/pseuds/RAW_SYNTH3TICA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While John & Tonto are trying to lable their relationship, it's becoming a bit harder than it should for the two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby Steps

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fotty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fotty/gifts).



> ALL IS FICTIONAL & NOT MINE  
> enjoy~!  
> Thank you, Fotty~ <3

John could hardly count the days between those numbered on the notches in his saddle and those stitched into his friend’s empty leather gun belt, there was a holster but no heavy irons weighing the tracker’s hips. The ranger decided it was the day they headed back to the Comanche’s tribal village, upon the way they encountered something most unexpected: a wounded yearling limping along the trail to nowhere, it’s front left hoof dragging long lines into the red sand, a weak wheezing rasp from it’s chest as it continued onward. Tonto wordlessly dismounted and approached the colt, his arms at first raised slightly up and forward, the colt’s weak eyes followed only rim white and huff nervously. The ranger’s spurs jangled as he was about to reach for their rope, the tracker held up a hand to keep John from spooking the young animal. 

What surpassed between the two was nothing short of unusual in John’s view as he scooted forward and leaned over the saddle horn, Tonto and the colt stood face to face, the colt showed signs of an attack, long ugly welts of red paired into threes smattered the colt’s flanks and legs, it’s knees skinned as was it’s stomach, twitching red muscle visible and swelled with blood. Cougar attack, by the looks of it. The colt blinked it’s dead gray eyes, sand and twigs caking the corners of freshly dried tears, the tiny muzzled then sniffed Tonto’s upturned hands, sensing for traces of decay which are the trademark of predators, be they four-legged, two or a hundred-limbed count. John knew he had much to learn when comparing himself to his partner, he was a little dulled by his privileged lifestyle to the awareness of what lay beyond cobblestone roads, and English horses which were so learned that they needed their own translator and trainer. 

Tonto on the other hand was taught on his fourth summer balance, that the world was filled with both wonders and dangers, and respecting each thing for what they were was not only the way of life, but also lay a foundation for a peaceful and prosperous lifestyle ahead. He glanced back to the ranger, those blue eyes on him, he nodded for John to dismount, joined by another pair of helping hands, he fought the impulse to show his obvious unease as they proceeded to search out water-retaining scrubs along the sandy banks appearing, alas reaching cactus-looking spiny plant with a healthy plumpness in it’s long waxy fingers, Tonto broke off the uppermost piece, and smeared the watery oils upon the colt’s wounds. By example, John dutifully imitated his companion’s gestures almost perfectly, save for once reaching into the flesh a little too deep, otherwise Tonto stood at his side pleased of the ranger’s ability to pick up granules of knowledge when taught once, which was a much sought-after quality in both child and lesson-seeker. 

John and Tonto led the weak colt to shelter beneath a flat rock atop a hill overlooking the grooved mesas, winds blew in the scents of oncoming rain where they could rest for only but a few moments, they continued again to find the camp while supporting the drowsy yearling, a few drops wet the thirsty earth, her skin welcoming the thunder and droplets which only seemed as if to grow with each step the pair took. Silver nudged the colt soothingly as the young animal began to whinny faintly, the soil churned in it’s saturated state, their tracks beaten away by the heavy dollops of dark rain. 

Noon became night as they alas found the camp glowing dimly beneath the swaying cottonwood trees, white streaks tore the sky in half followed closely by the roar of the black clouds grouped tightly about, Tonto first led the colt into a teepee and emerged empty handed. John dismounted, taking his saddle, bridle and blankets along, Silver trotted to the herd sheltered inside a shallow cave, the two men then trudged sleepily into their designated home away from home. A tribesman having already fed the fire lest they come back at any given time excused himself from their teepee and went respectively back to his own family, they shook the rain away and sat face to face across from each other near the fire, a bundle of dried berry cakes and an enamel pot of stewed jerky meat boiling carefully over the hearth as both John and Tonto helped themselves to the foods without invitation nor thought to speak of the events which occurred. 

“I hope the colt doesn’t die,” John said alas, Tonto met his eyes as he was about to take a mouthful of berry cake behind the unruly long black cascade reaching well past his waist, the ranger figured that he had seen all there was to see as he bashfully averted his gaze. 

“Maybe will, maybe won’t,” the tracker answered, he sipped at the wooden bowl and helped himself to more of the broth. 

John again felt strange for having not seen Tonto’s face all day, and now for the first time he saw something bordering worry, concern, but it might have been his imagination since the man’s expression again became fierce but placid, as if not wanting to talk more of the little things which remained pure and wild such as the young mustang colt appearing an omen of even the young being touched by death. A tribeswoman then took from behind the hide doorway their empty water jug, their used dishes and pot carrying only air from the pair’s full stomachs, John pulled off his sopped clothing while Tonto sat turned away as he too stripped and tied another breechcloth to himself, he hook off his beaded war shirt and began plaiting his hair. He patted the crow in endless flight which sat next to his bedding as he lay face up in thought, his fingers counting along his silver beads upon his wrists, John then resumed changing. 

Tonto again would not gaze his way, he shimmied into an extra pair of trousers and a sleeping shirt a little disappointed that he was not the last man alive on earth, he huffed and covered himself with the quilted hide blanket a tribal elder had made for him, he thought to himself how his rebuffed attempts at appearing less platonic to Tonto were bordering the shameful lines past downright embarrassing. Each kissed missed by a mile and always ended up on either Silver or the air surrounding Tonto or the wall between tribal taboo and the Lone Ranger’s spotless social reputation, either way, the last thing he wanted was not only to completely crap on his next attempt or to see only Tonto’s shadow as a farewell if he ever tried too hard or pressed himself too much on his friend. Gifts were the Worst part; strings of pearl beads were given to children, a small box of seashells re-gifted to the tribal medicine woman, expensive furs became the chief’s most prized possessions, strings of corals and turquoise disappearing without a trace as did John’s silver concho button from Silver’s breast collar. The worst thing to do was point fingers in a place where each person surrounding him was their own sheriff by right of stone blades in their belts. 

“Why does no one ever look us in the eye any more, Tonto?” John asked, fully settled into his bedding, he peered over to the other side to Tonto whom glanced his way and raised a brow in confusion, “There is the rule of etiquette consisting of two people making something polite called ‘eye contact’.” 

The pause while Tonto spoke was deafening, he answered, “People think we’re different.” 

“Obviously,” John flopped unto his back recounting the ways they should appear ‘different’. 

First, being Tonto’s winged company now not being present in public, but was always treated as if it were alive. Secondly, no person had ever seen an Indian and ‘White-Man’ together as other than captive and captor. Third, John wore an all-eclipsing hat never seen in the west and Tonto wore roughly-worded humor like fleas on a drunk. 

“How does your people say-?” Tonto closed his eyes to the shame which flooded him as soon as he answered, “Like you are my life mate.” 

The fire died down to juniper and cedar sap-scented coals, the rain by chance falling in and sizzling away through the teepee’s pole gap, the world outside lit white flashes before John asked another question in the simplest of words he could muster, “Do I shame you, Tonto?” 

“No,” the tracker stared straight up to the smoke curling upwards and funneling out of the slight gap in the teepee, he spoke slowly, his voice soft, “Have no wife, no children. Am alone.” 

Realizing his friend was unhappy by tone of voice, he prodded a little further, “Do you want a wife?” 

“No,” Tonto made a move as if to turn unto his side away from John, but paused and returned to his back, “Too ashamed to want one.” 

“Is this about money? A woman?” John asked, he propped his head up on a hand and waited. 

“You’re my friend,” Tonto merely said, he then closed his eyes so their discussion would end where it had. 

\---

“What does it all mean?” John’s voice rang out in the bordello the next day. 

“Uh-hm,” Red sat upon her velvet high-backed loveseat as she listed while John paced back and fourth before her, “The love bug seems to have infected your redskin, lawman.” 

“There’s no such thing as the ‘love bug’, it’s a myth,” John turned to her and jabbed finger in her direction as he grew angry with worry. 

“I’ll bet my shiny ivory leg he likes you,” she spoke all the while swinging her good leg over the heavier one. 

“Of course he likes me, I’m his friend,” John was about ready to tear his hair out by the clumps for his annoyance at Red being so cavalier. 

“Oh, he used That word, now did he?” Red rose up to lean forward, her rouged lips ticking up one side a touch upon her white skin. 

“Yes, and I’m a good one at that, too,” John mumbled began furiously pacing again. 

“Reed, the use of ‘friend’ implies a little more than it does to us white folk,” she giggled, “You’re a smart man, think about it.” 

The ranger’s legs and hands shook, he was so happy he could burst or whoop out with joy, he could run the world over twice and land on one knee when he stopped, he instead marched stiffly out while murmuring to himself, “Baby steps, John, baby steps.”

**Author's Note:**

> while I did intend to keep a lot a mystery regarding Tonto/John Reed, it's become confusing since I write fics like a producer writing a screenplay, my bad.  
> I got a little peptalk from Fotty, & I hope I've heeded the warning because really, who Can read a character's thoughts, I tried my best to insert little clues instead of completely slathering on the lovey-dovey-fluff because I tend to completely get off topic & rant, so instead there are a few paragraphs actually on their thoughts rather than actions to one another.


End file.
